


Call you maybe?

by Taigrin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (kind of), Coffee Shops, Derek is not a (total) grumpy ass, First Meetings, I Blame Tumblr, I only read angst but I ended up writing fluff what's wrong with me, M/M, Meet-Cute, Online Romance, Teen Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taigrin/pseuds/Taigrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dude, who is the guy on your Facebook?” </p>
<p>Stiles has no idea but he's <i>hot</i> and he's holding a piece of paper that neatly reads LOOKING FOR MY OWNER and Stiles' mouth dries and he would get an instant nosebleed if all his blood wasn’t rushing somewhere else. </p>
<p>Now he understands why his feed is full of sexual innuendos and BDSM jokes. </p>
<p>Fuck. His. <i>Life</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call you maybe?

He has just sat down to try to finish his dissertation – after a two hours break playing CoD with Scott – when his neighbors start drilling the wall to hang what it seems to be at least the whole National Gallery.  

“Destiny is aligning everything today so you take the day off,” Scott says from the couch and between a mouthful of popcorn, half of them falling on his lap while he speaks. Gross. “Another round?” He offers, making his best puppy face at him. 

Stiles grunts and scrubs a hand through his hair, tapping the pile of books in front of him. “I seriously need to do this, man. I’m behind schedule like, so much I should probably defend my thesis next year instead of next _month_ and even so I should’ve probably started already.” What a fool of him to trust Scott to be a supportive flatmate through his stressful times. It would be better if he were at home, at least his father wouldn’t make him pay for the pizza he’s been living on since – well, forever. He can’t recall the last time he ate something green that weren't jalapeños.

Scott shrugs and resumes the game on pause without much remorse, the fucker. Stiles still can hear the battle noises coming from his headphones and the occasional grunts when he gets himself killed but it’s a background noise he has learnt to live with.  

By the time Scott talks again Stiles has managed to write more than six pages and the lights are on. Suck that up, ADHD.

“Dude, who is this guy on your Facebook?” He makes a face, the food around him long gone and now replaced by so many empty bowls it’s incredible he’s not in a food coma. “I think he has more 'likes' than you have friends and that’s not even possible.” 

At the confused look Stiles throws at him he clarifies in a Scott way of doing things, which is like asking a five year old explain why planes fly if they don’t have proper wings. He tried once when they were in kindergarten and sometimes that headache comes back, it’s not something he would like to repeat. “You updated a couple hours ago with a picture of a guy? If this is some kind of new internet meme don’t tag me again, please.”

Stiles huffs. “How do you think I managed to do that if I don’t have access to the internet?” He had bribed Scott with a double free dessert at the café because he felt guilty for not being able to marathon CoD with him as every Sunday, a tradition they started when they first moved together for college years ago. Stiles had also asked Scott to keep his mobile away from him and change the WiFi password so he wouldn’t be tempted to dawdle. 

Obviously it didn’t work out completely but it could’ve been much worse.

“The new password?”

Scott walks over the desk and hands Stiles a post-it with _4L1$0N_ scribbled while reading out loud the replies to the picture. Most of them make Stiles reconsider his friend choices and want to bury his head somewhere, preferably in Russia because no one knows him there. It’s not like he doesn’t get laid _ever_.

His mouth falls open, literally, when he logs in. His Facebook shows a – _seriously man, how someone with this level of hotness even_ exists _?_  

Stiles double checks and yes, it’s his account and there is indeed a picture of a guy in a white tank top and sweat pants looking into the camera as if it had personally insulted him. He’s the perfect combination between a nerd – he’s hot and he’s wearing _glasses_ , Scott – and any porn star’s wet dream – holy shit his _arms_ , I could hang on them like a monkey, climb him like a tree – and if Stiles wasn’t sure how much into guys he really is, this guy would totally make him go down that road. Several times.  

Hot Guy (he deserves that nickname and calling him God would be maybe too much because there’re parts of his anatomy yet to be seen) is holding a piece of paper that neatly reads _LOOKING FOR MY OWNER_ and Stiles’ mouth dries and he would get an instant nosebleed if all his blood wasn’t rushing somewhere else. Now he understands why his feed is full of sexual innuendos and BDSM jokes.

Fuck. His. _Life._

It’s not until at least another ten minutes of ogling that Stiles realizes Hot Guy also has _his_ mobile in one hand.

 

X

 

“Since when do you have the Imperial March as your ring tone?” Cora asks from the kitchen’s counter where she has been slurping noodles for the last five minutes, noisily so just to annoy him.

Derek fishes his phone with a frown. He usually keeps it on silence and would rather kill himself before using any melodies but it wouldn’t be the first time Erica messes up with his settings. She is the best secretary he could wish for, mind like a steel trap and terrifyingly well organized, but unfortunately the concepts of privacy and boundaries are not in her vocabulary. 

_Incoming call – Lydia <3 _

His scowl deepens as he lets it ring until it stops, screen going black after a few more seconds. He doesn’t have any _Lydia_ saved in his contact list and definitely does not know the redheaded girl that was displayed under the name. He checks the phone. It’s the same model as his but it has several scratches at the back and a small space invaders stick. A picture of two smiling guys half hugging flashes at him when he presses the Home button; one is wearing a stupid hat and the other is beaming at the camera, holding an empty glass.

“Who are they?” Cora asks over his shoulder, munching on prawn crackers and getting its crumbs on him. He should have known better than to clean before her visit.

“This is not my phone,” he explains, moving to one side to make her room on the couch. “I might’ve taken it by mistake when I stopped at the café before picking you up.” Derek dials his number and doesn’t bother to leave a voicemail when his own voice greets him. Whoever has his phone will not be able to access his information due to the lock he put on and he’s more than grateful of his past self for activating the function. Lucky for him he also keeps a copy of all his contacts on his laptop so the loss in case of not getting his phone back would be minimal. 

His self-appraisal is interrupted when Cora takes the phone away and throws herself besides him, her legs dangling from the armrest, head cushioned on his lap. 

“What are you doing?”

She tilts her head enough to send him a _look_ , not hiding the fact that she thinks the question is stupid. “Snooping, obviously.” 

He decides to ignore her and go back to his laptop, now dangerously on top of the other armrest. “Whatever, but keep calling my number just in case.”

He sends a quick email to Erica to let her know what happened and starts skimming over the fuckton amount of emails waiting for him; maybe ignoring his inbox for so long wasn’t his best idea ever. The last email is a reminder for tomorrow’s meeting, a lunch appointment with Thomas Beyer from Beyer Blinder Belle Architects & Planners, one of the best firms in NYC. It had taken a lot of work to even get the opportunity to meet with them and his guts twist in a mix of anticipation, anxiety and panic. Everything needs to be to be perfect if they want to get a contract out of this firm and they can’t rely on anything but themselves. He has his best suit ready for the occasion and maybe he should retouch the presentation he had already changed six times in the last couple of days?  

“Must be your lucky day, bro.” Cora interrupts, wiggling the phone in front of him. “He’s into the D if this album full of naked guys is anything to go by.” Derek tries – and fails – to avert his eyes from the screen plastered to his face. He fights a blush at what he sees and Cora cackles. There are indeed quite a lot of pictures of dicks, more than any person would be comfortable to see in a lifetime, and as far as it’s possible to assume this kid’s a big fan of Men on Edge. Not that Derek is judging or anything but who would’ve guessed. 

He lets Cora pry for a little longer only because it keeps her quiet and it’s the only way – he has tried– he can actually catch up with some work. They fall in a comfortable silence, only broken by Cora’s comments on the pictures of the kid, her giggles and snorts reading some of his texts out loud. Derek doesn’t approve of it but it’s been a while since the last time they spent time together that wasn’t a rushed meal and Derek likes it, even if once again he can’t put aside his work. He feels bad neglecting his sister but if everything goes well tomorrow he’ll definitely make it up to her because yeah, he misses her. Not that he can tell her that without opening Pandora's box.

“I wish he was my brother, at least he knows how to have fun,” Cora teases as if she could read his mind, nudging and pressing her head further into his stomach until Derek grunts in annoyance. “He’s really cute, I like him.”

She shows him some more pictures to make her point and Derek doesn’t openly agree with her because that would get him a never-ending harassment but yes, he certainly _is_ cute, with an easy smile always on and his clearly witty remarks even via text. The pics have always the same protagonists, The Kid and The Puppy, as Cora has named the other guy, and then from time to time The Brunette and The Redhead – Lydia, he remembers – appear too, with The Pimp constantly lurking close by. 

She calls his number every now and then but at the fifth unsuccessful attempt she huffs, exasperated. Derek is surprised she lasted this long.

“We could try calling any of his friends. Or maybe we should post something on his Facebook.” Derek directs a _no way_ scowl at her and Cora deliberately ignores him as she does when it’s not convenient for her, which is usually always. “It would be the fastest way to get him. He will check it eventually and seeing how often he logs in and how much he uses it, it will be sooner rather than later.”

“Are you on his Facebook?” 

She plays deaf. Why did he bother to ask, again? “I think,” Cora continues, suddenly sitting up with a dangerous ear-to-ear grin, “that I will cash in my revenge now”. _Shit_. Derek wills himself to keep typing away on his computer. Nothing good will come out of this and he knows it but not showing fear could do the trick this time. 

“We need to take a picture of you.”

Or maybe not.

 

X

 

[ Scott ] Hey. It’s me.

 

[ Stiles ] ?

 

[ Scott ] Stiles. The owner of the phone? And before you ask, yeah, that’s my name. Scott is my bestie and he let me borrow his Facebook account to chat with you, he’s a sweetheart. But now it’s confusing to talk to a picture of myself.

[ Scott ] And I’m sorry on behalf of my friends and their comments but they thought it was a joke.

 

[ Stiles ] I can see that.

[ Stiles ] So when can we meet?

 

[ Scott ] Woah, so eager, I’m flattered :)

 

[ Stiles ] I need my phone back. 

 

[ Scott ] Are you the guy from the pic or did you call a model friend of yours to pose for it? Let me tell you it’s not fair to use him as a bait, I would’ve returned your phone any way, even if you don’t have a body sculpted by Greeks.

 

[ Stiles ] It’s me.

[ Stiles ] When can we meet?

 

[ Scott ] Why do you type so slowly? What are you doing?

[ Scott ] Hello?

 

[ Stiles ] Working.

 

[ Scott ] At 11 on a Sunday night? Dude, your boss is a bitch.

[ Scott ] Working on what?

 

[ Stiles ] None of your business.

 

[ Scott ] Clearly you got the body but not the manners. Please stop overwhelming me with your explanations. 

 

[ Stiles ] Sorry for not sharing personal stuff with strangers.

 

[ Scott ] You wound me, we’re not strangers. You have my entire life in your hands. Literally. My mobile is like my chamber of secrets. You have access to my darkest desires.

 

[ Stiles ] Is that why you have so many pics of dicks?

 

[ Scott ] Dude, that’s invading my privacy.

 

[ Stiles ] You just implied I had free rein. 

[ Stiles ] Also it was my sister, she wanted to know what kind of guy you are.

 

[ Scott ] I’m not all over dicks, you know? Not all the time anyway and maybe not as often as I would like. 

[ Scott ] I’m not a drunktard either, if you’re wondering. I guess you also saw the pics from my buddy’s birthday party but we had to celebrate. If you go back a little further and ignore basically the whole school year you will see how much of a normal guy I really am. 

 

[ Stiles ] I’m sure you are.

 

[ Scott ] This makes two almost-compliments in the last hour, which is more than I can hope for in normal circumstances when I meet someone. I will take this as a win.

 

[ Stiles ] So where do you live? Maybe I could drop by.

 

[ Scott ] Dude, stop right there. I’m not giving you my home address so you can come and kill me with your bare hands. I’m the sheriff’s son, just so you know. I’m gun trained since I was seven. It all started with a fake revolver during Halloween but still.

[ Scott ] And also, everything’s closed.

 

[ Stiles ] Tomorrow before work, at 6-7?

 

[ Scott ] In the morning? I’m planing to do an all-night with my thesis, there’s no way in hell I’ll be up before lunch.

[ Scott ] Hello?

 

[ Stiles ] I will call you on my lunch break then. Don’t pick up any other calls.

 

[ Scott ] Why?

 

[ Stiles ] Somehow I feel the need to save my clients from dealing with you.

 

[ Scott ] Go on, don’t butter me up.

[ Scott ] But you know what? I could play secretary for you, I have a sexy voice. I tried to work as a sex operator once because I needed money but apparently I was too young. To be honest, considering the things teenagers do at 15 nowadays I didn’t see why I couldn’t do the same on the phone, much safer.

 

[ Stiles ] No.

 

[ Scott ] You could share your unlock password in case there’s some emergency, you know? I’m bored.

 

[ Stiles ] Good try but no.

 

[ Scott ] Should I expect some nude pics in front of a mirror, showing off your abs? You look like you have abs and if that’s the case I can call a friend that is good with this kind of stuff, so you better share your password and save me the trouble. 

[ Scott ] Wait, are you even gay? 

[ Scott ] OK, you don’t need to answer that. In case you haven’t noticed I don’t have a brain-mouth filter, sorry about that in advance.

[ Scott ] What’s your name? Because I keep thinking of you as Hot Guy and it’s totally unfair that you have free way to my whole life and I don’t even know your name.

 

[ Stiles ] Derek.

 

[ Scott ] See? It wasn’t that hard. 

[ Scott ] Derek, the hot buffed guy that loves Call Me Maybe.

 

[ Stiles ] I do not.

 

[ Scott ] Your phone is locked but I can still play your songs. Let me tell you I wouldn’t have guessed your taste in music seeing how grumpy you are.

 

[ Stiles ] It’s my niece’s favourite song.

[ Stiles ] And I’m not grumpy.

 

[ Scott ] Whatever you say, man.

[ Scott ] So what kind of guy has a default wallpaper as his locked screen?

 

[ Stiles ] One who uses his phone to do business.

 

[ Scott ] Of what kind?

 

[ Stiles ] I’m an architect.

 

[ Scott ] Glad to know you’re opening up now. I knew it would work this time :)

[ Scott ] Maybe I should keep asking about your password.

 

[ Stiles ] No.

 

[ Scott ] Favourite movie?

 

[ Stiles ] Talk to you tomorrow. Don’t take any calls.

 

[ Scott ] Hey, no dude. Don’t leave me alone now. Scott is snoring already and you’re my only excuse to procrastinate.

[ Scott ] Derek? 

[ Scott ] I know my phone’s settings and I know you can hear all these notifications. 

[ Scott ] I’M

[ Scott ] NOT

[ Scott ] GOING

[ Scott ] TO

[ Scott ] S

[ Scott ] T

 

[ Stiles ] Don’t make me turn off the phone. I have an important meeting tomorrow morning.

 

[ Scott ] Does that mean you’re already in bed? What are you wearing? 

 

[ Stiles ] Bye Stiles.

 

[ Scott ] :(

[ Scott ] Night Derek

 

X

 

He doesn’t know if he should feel nervous or not. It’s not like this is a date or anything, he’s just meeting a guy in the park. A really hot one for that matter – if Derek is who he says he is, that is – but Stiles is not keeping his hopes up. Not that he would have a chance, anyway. Not that he is expecting anything either. So yeah, no reason to be nervous, Stilinski. 

He fidgets with the phone in his hands, itching to do something. A date would also imply romantic interest and Stiles guesses a boner is not considered romantic in any setting, unless both parts are into it but Derek is probably married and _or_ ugly and he is not eye candy himself but at least he’s not lying about his appearances, thank you very much. Maybe they could star in CatFish.

The thing is that he couldn't stop thinking about Derek all day and it’s stupid. He shouldn't be crushing over a guy he hasn't met, hasn't talked to –not really at least– and that could be a fraud in all senses but any love interest is more than welcomed because he’s kind of tired of people judging him when he says is his ideal man is Han Solo. At least Jackson is not around to remind him how sad his life is, because honestly, he would be totally right.

He feels stupid sitting on a bank doing nothing and Derek is _late,_ which is not helping. Twenty minutes and counting and maybe he would rather buy a new phone than meeting with Stiles and he should go home already. The worst part is that it wouldn’t be the first time someone dumps him even before meeting him and maybe he should learn from his mistakes – pig-headedness is not always a good quality, as his father would say. Maybe he’s right but he is not repeating the history, really. Instead of waiting for _hours_ as he once did he will give Derek another ten minutes and then he’ll leave and forget about everything with a bucket of curly fries drowned in ketchup. If he thinks about it, there are fond memories about that no-show date; he remembers calling Lydia drunk off his ass later on that day and her indignation on behalf of his not-friend-anymore. They had plotted ways to kill the guy but it was too much work so they ended up spending the rest of the night eating pizza and complaining about men.

“Stiles?” 

He looks up startled and Hot Guy is there. In front of him and hotter than in all the fantasies he’s been having since yesterday, which to be honest are quite a lot. _Derek_ is standing barely a few meters away in a dark grey tailored suit that fits him so well that if he were an angel Heaven would ban him to avoid temptation, _definitely_ beating Harvey Specter’s first position of super hot guys in a suit.

Maybe he should stop staring and stand up and greet him? 

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, my meeting went on longer than expected and then I had to detour,“ Derek carries on sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. His voice is pure velvet and _God_. 

Stiles may or may not take longer than necessary to find the words he needs to stop looking as a mindless jerk and when he does they come out rushed because holy shit, Derek is _real_ and talking to him and he is suddenly so not ready for this. “It went well, then?” It sounds like his best interpretation of Vito Corleone and he would feel proud in any other occasion but now he needs to clear his throat and start over again because of reasons. “I mean, I’m not an expert or anything because my business experience goes back to one summer selling ice-cream at the lake and my customers were either kids or their moms but if a meeting is long it usually means that the other part is interested, right? Like in dates? Not that I’m an expert in that either but, you know.” Awesome landing.

Derek snorts, apparently amused by his verbal diarrhoea and that tiny smile and flash of teeth do _things_ to Stiles’ mental health. “I think it went well,” he nods and steps closer, not running away from him as Stiles expected. He needs to tilt his head a little to keep looking at Derek’s face because staring at his crotch wouldn’t be a good idea. His eyes are green or hazel or who knows which colour but those orbs would deserve at least a sonnet or two and Stiles is volunteering. “They need to take a decision so we have to wait. We did our best and I’m happy whatever the result,” Derek explains and Stiles kind of feels bad for being only half listening and lusting after his body instead but he still has the mind of a teenager and he can’t help it. Also it’s not like Derek is not used to this, he cannot _not_ be used to people staring at him like a gaping fish. “Thank you for taking the call, by the way.” 

Lucky he took it actually, he thinks stepping out from his reverie. He will not tell Derek it was more a knee-jerk reaction than anything else because the mobile started vibrating on his night stand at a shitty early hour and Stiles just blindly reached for it to throw it to the other side of the room. It happened to be a call from the offices of _Blinder Architects or something and your meeting is at noon instead of after lunch,_ he had repeated minutes later to Derek himself using Scott’s mobile. Anyway, if Karma wanted to repay him with the chance to ogle someone like Derek he’s totally fine with it. He will get home alone but his fap material will last at least _decades_. “It was nothing, trust me.” 

“I’ve brought you something,” Derek mumbles and if Stiles didn’t know better he would say he looks embarrassed. “As a thank you,” he clarifies to Stiles’ astonished face, handling him a bag.

Stiles thanks him and it’s rude to open a gift as soon as you receive it but he’s dying to know what it is so he takes the box out and his eyes grow impossibly large. Again. Derek is full of surprises. “These are my favourite cupcakes!” he chortles, amazed by the coincidence. Could he be even more perfect? But wait. “How did you know?” Derek blushes and it’s so adorable Stiles could puke rainbows. Or maybe kiss him.

“Lucky guess,” it sounds like a confession of guiltiness and he looks away, busying himself with _his_ mobile. 

“It’s totally fine if you stalked me, I would’ve done exactly the same,” he offers him a cupcake but Derek declines. Stiles carefully takes one out and ignores the fact that he had lunch one hour ago when the first bite melts in his mouth. This stuff is worth the sugar rush he’ll probably get because one cupcake is never enough. “I gotta say you’re not as I pictured you,” Stiles adds a moment later, crossing his eyes for a second to lick the frosting left on top of his lips. “And sorry again for the replies you got. My friends can be really,” he makes a gesture with his hands for the lack of a better word – _any_ word, really.

Derek stares at his fingers covered in _more_ frosting and then back at him with a face that not even a poker champion would beat. “It’s fine, my sister was cracking up for _hours,_ ” he looks annoyed and then slightly confused, as if troubled to say something else or not. “I’m not… like that, you know?”

What? Now Stiles is the one confused. “What do you mean?”

It takes a few beats for Derek to reply and he’s looking at anything but Stiles. “A show off?” He mumbles, as if saying it out loud would make it true. Is Derek worried about what _he_ – Stiles, the scrawny boy that never shuts up and can’t lift a pen and no one looks twice at – thinks of him? “She made me do it because I lost a bet and– well, let’s say the punishment would’ve been way worse than that picture on your Facebook, where only a bunch of teenagers would see it”.

“You must be really afraid of her,” Stiles laughs, “but hey, I’m not that young! I’m 23 already, totally legal,” he says pointing to himself. “To drink! Totally legal to drink,” he repeats emphasizing the last word. Somehow running away would be a great option now and hopes his face is not as red as it feels. “Anyway, it must be really nice to have a sister.”

Everything is easier after that. Derek is a great conversationalist if not a bit shy and Stiles listens to old stories about his family, how they live apart from each other and would only gather all together during Christmas and of course his mom uses that as an excuse to throw the biggest party ever and celebrate also all their birthdays. Or the time Laura –you would love her, everyone does even if she lives to be my pain in the ass– was playing and being annoying and Derek hit her to shut her up – _I was like_ four, he amends at Stiles’ shocked face– and she ended up crying and would now use that against him every time she can. 

Derek talks a lot if it’s not about himself, Stiles realizes, and he shares stories about his dad and Scott. Derek looks at him and smiles at his fond memories and it’s hard to remember that they did not know each other yesterday when everything feels so easy. And somehow, in the middle of an anecdote, Stiles throws himself at Derek and kisses him because why not. It is chaste, chapped lips against warm ones and it lasts the two heartbeats it takes Derek to react because he doesn’t do or say anything but his intake of air and the discouragingly sound that comes with it is enough for Stiles’ mind to catch up with his actions and _shit_.

“I’m sorry,” he backs down mortified and doesn’t dare to look at Derek. Anything but him. The gravel floor is interesting. Or the trees above them. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t–“

But Derek stands up and walks away before he’s even able to excuse himself and that hurts even more than his creeping shame. It’s not only his pride that is wounded, Derek was being nice and he had to scare him away by doing something stupid that would ruin even the chance of being friends. Friends because Stiles would have very much loved to leave knowing if he could see Derek again, he was funny and intelligent and looked like he was enjoying himself as much as him and this was a clear example why he’s still single and will forever be. Until they legalize men/animal marriage, that is. Then he’ll marry his future cat named Vader. 

“Stiles.”  

And a force pulls him until he stands before woah, _Derek_ , and suddenly he’s being kissed. Hot and deliberately slow, hands framing his face. Derek nibbles on his lips and when he rubs his thumb over Stiles’s cheek, he opens his mouth, shuddering at the first touch of Derek’s tongue. He sighs contentedly and Derek smiles against him, backing up until their foreheads are pressed together, their breaths mixing, hands still touching, grabbing.

“You all right?” He smirks, the smug bastard, and Stiles can’t help but smile too. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeated so sorry sorry sorry about the ugly grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language ;;
> 
> Also, it (kind of) was based on [this](http://alreadyclaimednamefk.tumblr.com/post/94423208198/sterek-au-where-stiles-and-derek-are-strangers-who) prompt


End file.
